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P E M S 



RELIGIOUS AND MISCELLANEOUS. 



BY THE LATR 



HELEN L. PARMELEE. 




NEW YORK: 
ANSON" D. F. RANDOLPH, 

No. 770 Bkoadway. 
1865. 



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Entered, according ta Act of Congress, in the year 1S65. 

By Anson D. F. Eandolph, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States 
for the Southern District of New York. 



NEW yokk; 

BD-W.IRD O. JENKINS, PRINTIB, 
20 NORTH WILUAM ST. 



INTR OD UCTION. 



J^ad tli& writer of tlie folloiving poems lived, iJiis 
littU volume^ in its incompleteness ^ would never have 
leen put lefore the puMio. S^Uliough every line lias 
teiider associatiotis for sorrowinr/ hearts^ it is only 
after repeated solicitations from many friends^ who 
desire a lasting memorial of one ivhose ieautiful char= 
acter endeared her to all ivho hneiv Jier well^ thai 
thes!> verses Jiave leen arranged for publication. 

^dith the full hioivledge that they cannot de sent 
forth trusting solely on their own merits^ it is dee77ied 
py^oper to preface the collection with these few apolo= 
getio lines. 

Croton, Auaust 1865. 



CONTENTS. 

n 
Down by the Wharves ' 

Life's Lessons 

The Men of Monterey 

Come Home to die "^ 

Eastern Point _^ 

Vespers and Matins 

♦^ Loss— One Dead." ^ 

Gold Dust 

The Bankrupt Merchant 

Christmas Holidays " ^ 

Gather Ripe Fruits, Death ! 2o 

My Wife ^^ 

The Count of Paris ^^ 

The Poet's Wife ^^ 

The Banner of the Free ^ 

32 

ISADORE 

January 1st, 1861 ^^ 

Room! 

The Return 

My Mountain Home ^^ 

Life's Sorrows 

T 42 

Irene 

Lost Treasures 

In Pace ^^ 

A Country Burial Place ^^ 

Manassas 

That City 



50 



Cavour ^^ 

CO 

Seventy-five ■ ^'^ 



Santa Laura. 



55 



First Born ^" 

Sleep and Death ^° 

1* 4^> 



CONTENTS. 



I Wish 59 

Burial of Bonchamps 61 

Do YOU Remember ? 65 

Looking Upward 65 

Many Mansions 68 

The Brigutness in the West , 70 

A Mother's Last Parting 71 

Little Children.. 73 

Fading and Fleeting All 73 

Amy 74 

Forest Teachings 76 

The Early Dead 77 

Twenty Years 79 

Seed Time and Harvest 80 

April 82 

Home Voices 84: 

Times Changes 85 

Hinder M e Not 86 

SuRsuM Corda 88 

Proserpina 89 

l>E Profundis 91 

Locust Branches 92 

Ariadne 94 

Coming 95 

Time and Tide 97 

The Eastern Hills 98 

Far Away 100 

The Student's Life .^ 101 

Judea Capta 103 

Faint, Yet Pursuing 104; 

Waiting 1 05 

Santa Cruz loij 

Hymn ]0-; 

Here and There 1 09 

The Secret of the Sea 110 



POEMS. 



BOWJ^ BY THE WHARVES. 

DOWN by the wharves, when the tide is out, 
Over the stones all slippery and green, 
Where the fisher-boats rock up and down, 

And the waves come rippling in between; 
He, far up on the bending mast. 

She, below on the shelving sliore, 
Shading her brow from the summer sun. 
And looking up, as she looks no more. 



Slow and stately the tide comes in 

Over her small feet, brown and bare. 
Softly tlie breeze from the land comes down, 

Tossing the curls of her chestnut hair. 
Bright sea-mosses and tangled kelp 

Round her ankles are twisted tight ; 
Through the shallows she runs and laughs, 

And the sunshine is mellow, and warm, and 
bright. 

0) 



DOWN BY THE WHARVES. 



They hear no murmur of coming storm, 

They sec no cloud with a warning hand, 
Nor reck that the summer v/ill soon be passed, 

And the scud go driving across the sand. 
Bright is the sunshine, the days are long — 

Hope is brighter than sun or sky. 
Down at the verge cf those sea-wet rocks 

Childhood and youth will go laughing by. 

Down by the wharves, when the tide is out, 

Summer has gone and childhood has passed 
Life's rich autumn just ripening in ; 

And the autumn has sunshine as well as blast. 
And there she stands in the morning light, 

Taller and slighter, but just as fair : 
A warmer glow on her sun-bm-nt cheek, 

A darker hue on her chestnut hair. 

Down by the whai'ves when the tide is out. 

And the air is heavy with mist and rain. 
And the seething waters with steady stroke 

War with the trembling land again. 
And there she stands 'mid the salt-sea spray. 

Holding her shawl o'er her dripping hair, 
And looking with eyes that would pierce the deep ; 

But how will she welcome what hideth there ? 

Watching and looking where nought is seen, 
Save the leaden sky and the moaning sea ; 



LIFES LESSONS. 



Careless of hunger, sleep or cold, 

So may my true loye watch for me ! 
While the storm goes by, and the waves grow still, 

And the sunshine glows on the yellow sand. 
The waves come in with a steadier swell, 

And the ships come up to the sight of land. 

In to the shore sweeps the long sea foam, 

Eibs of vessels and broken mast ; 
And sadder things, oh, thou treacherous deep ! 

A sadder burden than this thou hast ! 
Never again, when the tide is out. 

Will they two frolic on boat and shore. 
Life's dark winter is closing in. 

And the spring and the summer return no more ! 



LIFE'S LESSONS. 

" n AFE on the bosom of thy God, 

Vj How wilt thou then look back and smile, 
And bless the pangs that made thee see 
This was no world of rest for thee." 

One by one they are passing away ; 
Earth is. losing its hold each day : 
Some are dropping olf here and there, 
Each fireside has a vacant chair, — 
Child and matron, and maid and wife. 
Youth just girt for the war of life, 



10 LIFE'S LESSONS. 



Hoary-lieaded, and stalwart man, 
All fall under one common ban. 

Thus are tlie links of life unbound, 
And breaks are left in its perfect round ; 
One by one they are called away — 
They who were once our staff, and stay, 
Every bell that rings out its chime, 
Leaves one hour less in their day of time. 
Every form that is fair to see, 
Seems blighted with some fell malady. 

Thus we pass through our mortal day 
And if we yield not unto decay. 
Friends of our youth pass on before, 
Messengers to the silent shore ; 
They who were wont by our side to pray 
At the self-same altar day by day. 
All the friends of our early years — 
Leave us alone with our griefs and fears. 

Yet well it is that we weep to-day, 

Above the graves where our fond hopes lay — 

Could all be spared, how our hearts would cling 

With grasping hold to each earthly thing. 

And find a heaven below, and dread 

To lay us down with the silent dead. 

Feeling as bound with an iron chain 

To the loved and those who love us again. 



THE MEN OF MONTEREY. 11 



But now as we sit by the silent hearth, 
While our hearts go back to its early mirth, 
And we count those up who were with us then 
Who will never gather on earth again ; 
We feel heaven gaineth what earth has lost. 
They have found peace who were tempest-tost. 
While a work for us remaineth still, 
And we bide our time vsdth a patient will. 



THE MEN OF MONTEBEY. 

VTO more alone m glory, 

JLi Ye men of other days ; 

We have honored names to mingle 

Amid our songs of praise. 
But no leaf shall ever wither 

Upon your wreaths of fame ; 
Though your sons wear greener laurels 

Yet the glory is the same. 

There is silence in the valleys 

Where your noblest deeds were done ; 
And the corn-fields yet are smiling 

Where your sternest fights were won. 
But beyond the rolling river. 

And beyond the sandy plain 
They have borne the starry banner 

To the victory again ! 



12 COME HOME TO DIE. 



By Saltillo mountain passes, 

By tlie hill-side and the town, 
With the memory of your valor 

They have linked our own renown. 
And where'er the brave are honored, 

Upon this our hallowed day, 
Eoom on the page of story 

For the men of Monterey ! 



COME HOME TO DIE! 

COME home to die ! that his look might rest 
At the last on the places he loved the best ; 
On the grassy slope, with the maples green, 
And the broad brook rippling in between ; 
Witli the far-off hills where the sun went down. 
And left on their summits a shining crown, 
Which had seemed to his childish eyes t' enfold 
The streets of that city of pearly gold ! 

Come home to die ! he had wandered wide, 
And warred with the world in his bitter pride ; 
He had known the ruin of home and hearth. 
And buried the dearest hopes of earth ; 
Seen his kindred slirink, as they felt the ban, 
V/hich a cold world casts on a fallen man, 
And had vowed in his heart not to seek that home. 
Till the outcast scorned should a conqueror come. 



EASTERN POINT. 13 



Come home to die ! as a conqueror comes — 
How seek the victors their childhood's home ? 
With a wondering crowd at the chariot's side, 
And the silken banners out-spreading wide ; 
With the joyous peal of the old churcli bell, 
And the plaudits the conqueror loves so well. 
And came he thus to his home again, 
With the loyal shouts of a lordly train ? 

He came to die ! with his manhood past, 

And his haughty spirit bowed down at last ; 

To pass through the valley of death alone, 

No hand to rear a memorial stone. 

Yet he died a victor, who well might hear 

The triumphs rung on his dying ear — 

And with shouts of angels, the gates of heaven 

Flew wide to welcome a soul forgiven ! 



EASTERN POINT. 

I LEAN from out my window, 
When the day is going down. 
To watch the white spray dashing 
With the rainbow in its crown ; 
And hear the hollow murmur 

That rises at my feet, 
From that stormy wild commotion 
Whe]'e the earth and ocean meet. 
2 



14 EA S TERN POINT. 



Where the angry billow striketh, 

As if asking for a liome, 
And the scornful crag replieth, 

" No further shalt thou come." 
Then but half his wrath expended 

He shudders to the sky, 
But the Heavens unmoved above him 

Re-echo no reply. 



Back on himself he rolls, 
With an angry plunge impatient, 

That surges to the poles. 
And thus with ceaseless motion, 

Sways ever to and fro, 
Like a soul that wrestleth ever 

With the burden of its woe ! 

Oh, restless heaving ocean ! 

Shall thy wave be never still ? 
Oh, stormy human passion ! 

What shall curb thy wayward will. 
Still onward ever striving, 

'Gainst storm, and wdnd, and tide, 
No human hand restraineth. 

The swellings of thy pride ! 

Ah, yes ! the day is coming 
When shall be no more sea, 



EASTER.\^ POINT. 15 



Ko angry surging ocean, 
No billows bounding free ; 

But the sea of glass unbroken, 
That lies about the throne, 

A breath shall never ruffle, 

Where storms can never come I 



And there the soul tempestuous, 

More storniy than the sea, 
Shall break through all its fetters, 

And be for ever free ! 
He, who the raging billows 

Subjected to His will^ 
Will lay His hand upon it, 

And whisper, "Peace, be still I" 



Oh, himian heart ! take courage, 

Storm tost, and tempest driven, 
Thy haven lies 1)efore thee, 

The sheltered port of Heaven ! 
Thy weaiy wandering ended 

Storm, lightning, wild wave past, 
Tliere, where thy rest remaineth 

Thine anchor shall be cast 1 



16 VESPEhS AND MATINS. 



VESPERS AND MATIN'S, 

VrOW, fold away thy raiment, 
JLl My little maiden fair, 
And, parting from thy forehead 

The curls of yellow hair, 
I '11 tie the white cap closely 

Round the pearly cheek, and chin, 
Old prints, of German masters, 

I have seen such j)ictures in. 

Now clasp thy hands together, 

My little maiden mild. 
And ask the great All-Father 

To bless His little child ; 
And, on thy home, a blessing, 

Now all the world to thee ; 
And this, thy world's cathedral 

Beside thy mother's knee. 

Now, turn the soft sheet over. 

Lay thy white limbs to rest, 
While I fold the fringed cover 

Up lightly o'er thy breast. 
No silken curtains round thee 

Shut out the falling night ; 
The starlight through the elm trees, 

Nor morning's blessed light ! 



LOSS— ONE dead:' VI 



There is a robin cometh 

At breaking of tlie day, 
And sings his morning anthem, 

Swinging that leafy spray ; 
So, hushed by love at evening, 

And waked at morn by praise, 
A golden ring encloseth 

The circle of thy days. 



^LOSS—ONE bead:' 

THE gold thread is bright, but the night-dew will 
rust it — 
Blue coat, and white forehead— oh, red, white and 
blue ! 
The crimson streak spreading o'er brow and o'er 
bosom. 
We know what those colors will tell us of you. 

In the camp-girded city the dancers are flying, 
Soft voices are mingling with music's sweet tone ; 

But along the Potomac the bugles are calling. 

Hand to hand, heart to heart, one last kiss and be 
gone ! 

Along his lone walk, and his heart with the dancers ; 
Hark ! a rustle — a flash—and " to aniis " is the cry. 

2* 



18 GOLD DUSr. 



*'' On comrades P^ swift clashiug of bayonets ringing", 
And a low moaning sound as the riders sweej) by. 

There is mourning to-night in the snow-drifted home- 
stead, 
Wliere the free lig'ht shines bright on the rafters 
o'er head ; 
And the mother sits weeping hot tears for her dar- 
ling, 
But the rain raineth down on the :^e of the dead. 

Above the high mantel the flag that he fastened, 
No hand shall disturb it for ever and aye. 

He has well kq^t the vow that he made as he raised 
it— 
We buried him under its shadow to-day I 

Oh, soil of Virginia ! the blood of our bravest, 
Shall be to youi* battle-fields rain-cloud and dew ; 

But the harvest is ripening, the sheaves shall be gath- 
ered, 
And what shall the reckoning day reckon for you 'i 



G OLD DUST. 

^H ! the sunny hours of boyhood ! 
Do you ever now remember 
The long days in our old homestead, by that Northern 
river's shore I 



0' 



GOLD DUST. 19 



Tlie wide hall liung with antlers, 
The low rooms decked with pictures, 
And that watching mother leaning o'er the old half 
opened door ? 



Then the garden, all box-bordered, 
Where the guelder-roses blossomed. 
And the tulips ranged in order, flaunted in the sun- 
shine gay : 
I have crossed the golden tropics, 
But no groves of orange blossoms 
Ever bore the fragrance breathing round those flower- 
beds far away. 

And the arbor by the river 
With the spreading chestnut o'er it, 
Where we sheltered from the sunshine through the 
hottest of the day, 
To read o'er some olden legend. 
Or some wild and wondrous fable. 
Some tale of love and sorrow that for years had 
passed away. 

And thou, fair and stately Helen ! 
With those large eyes filled with weeping. 
Think you ever of that garden and the river sweep- 
ing by ? 



20 GOLD DUST. 



How we acted those old stories ? 
Some were lieroes, some were victims ; 
But the lover and the loving — they were always you 
and I! 



Kow our arbor was a palace, 
And you a sleeping beauty 
And I a brave prince waiting for a glance from that 
dark eye ; 
Now it was a rock uprising, 
With the wild sea surges dashing, 
And you were Andromeda with your white arms toss- 
ing high 1 

Then a gayer legend taking, 
You were Ariadne straying 
Where the tide beneath the alders left the sands all 
red and bare : 
Not like Ariadne sighing. 
But like Ariadne smiling. 
With the purple clusters clinging all about your 
shinine; hair. 



Now I waken in the midnight 
In a land more wild and wondrous 
Than any that we read of in those legends strange 
and old : 



THE BANKRUPT MERCHANT. 21 



And from my tent I listen 
To the rippling of tlie waters 
Of a river whose bright current rushes over sands of 
gold. 

But you light another's dwelling, 
Another's child caressing, 
And what care I for the treasure I have gathered, all 
too late ! 
'T will not buy me back my boyhood, 
'T will not bring the lost and loving ; 
For the full and perfect meeting I can only trust and 
wait. 



THE BANKRUPT MERCHANT 

THE cloud has burst, the storm has come, 
And swept my house, but not my home ; 
Silver and gold, and rank and pride, 
I smile to see them swell the tide ! 

My steeds are in another's stalls. 
My marbles grace another's halls. 

My pictured gems, so rich and rare, 
Have left my walls all cold and bare. 

What care I for the empty room ? 
I leave it to its chill and gloom ; 



22 THE BANKR UPT MER CHANT. 



My household gods were never made 
To live in sunshine, die in shade. 

I pass along the crowded street, 
Men turn aside who used to greet ; 

What care I for their altered mien ? 
I am, what I have ever been, 

A man, if not a millionaire ; 

A breather of the self-same air, 
A dweller on the self-same sod, 

A creature of the self-same God ! 

Turn with me down this narrow street, 
ISTo lordly mansion here we greet ; 

Yet proudly fling I back my door, 
Bankrupt in wealth, I am not poor ! 

For here are household treasures three. 
And clothed with sweet simplicity, 

Come me to greet, who yesterday 
Could fling the gold like dust away. 

Her broidered robes, her diamonds rare, 
The setting, not the jewel were, 

A new Cornelia, but to me 

She is the gem of all the three. 

From the sweet shelter of her breast 
My babe springs forth to be caressed ; 



THE CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS. 23 



My fair-haired girl leans quietly 
With timid clasp against my knee. 

Well may I smile at scattered wealth I 
Contentment, love and hope and health 

Are store enough to bless one hearth 
With all the real wealth of earth, 

And better than thi? home of love, 

We seek a surer rest above ; 
Where shelt'ring wings around us cast 

Shall hide us from the stormy blast. 

And what if one should press before. 

And enter at the open door ; 
We will but trim our lamps anew, 

And wait to greet the bridegroom too 1 



THE CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS. 

ri^HE merry winter holidays, 
1 They dawn on us agaiu, 
Bringing an echo to our hearts 

From many a long lost strain. 
The sad, sad winter holidays 

They unto me appear 
The very loneliest days that come 

In all the live-long year. 



24 THE CHRISTMAS HOLIBA YS. 



Tliey bring us back our childhood's hours 

When all around was gay, 
And we sprang up at early dawn^ 

To hail the happy day ; 
And our light laugh went ringing by. 

And childhood's smile we wore ; 
Those merry, merry holidays^ 

They will return no more ! 

They bring but now the siid'ning thought 

Of friends, the loved and lost ; 
Of kindly feelings passed away, 

And fond hopes harshly crossed : 
The young glad hearts that kept with us 

The merry festival, 
Are scattered over all the earth, 

Far from their father's hall. 

And smiles have grown less g^lad of late, 

In those who yet remain : 
Alas ! the good old merry days 

Will never come again ; 
For time has set his sad'ning seal 

On all around us now 
And earth has traced her withering blight 

On each once careless brow I 

How many that were with us then, 
Are resting calmly now^ 



GATHER RIPE FRUITS. 25 



Where never sadness sinks the heart, 
Or sorrow clouds the brow ; 

We miss theii* kindly smiles to-day, 
And many a young glad face, 

And in the crowd our hearts yet leave 
For them a vacant place. 



And yet the merry holidays 

They are and still shall be : 
We look on many a childish face, 

Lit up with laughing glee, 
And to our hearts they send a light, 

And on us kindly call. 
To keep for them with gladder hearts 

This wintei- festival 1 



GATHER RIPE FRUITS, DEATH! 

TAKE thy shadow from my threshold, 
O thou dweller in the night ! 
Standing right across my doorway. 
Shutting out the morning light. 
Thou hast been here in the autumn, 

And hast taken all thy sheaves. 
It is not time to gather 

The blossoms and the leaves. 
3 



26 GATHER RIPE FRUITS. 



O ! press not in so closely 

To the baby at my breast ; 
Would'st thou take the tender nursling 

From the shelter of its nest ? 
O child, he is no playmate 

For such a one as thee ; 
Ho smiles and stretches towards him, 

What can the ba])y see ] 

Ah ! close behind the shadow 

He sees the angel wait, 
And wide the leayes unfolding 

Of that broad, heavenly gate. 
And he seeth one who beckoneth, 

Poor heart ! could'st thou but see 
Those golden gates unfolding. 

And thy lost ones waiting thee ! 

Yet colder falls the twilight, 

And the children crouch behind, 
As the garments past them rustling, 

Sweep like the winter wind ; 
But the baby smiles and watcheth, 

And when the night grows dim, 
There will ])e an empty cradle. 

And a breaking heart for him. 



MY WIFE. 21 



MY WIFE. 

THOSE poor rough hands I press with lowlier mien 
Than I should wear before a gracious queen ; 
Those sad, tired eyes, to me are lovelier far 
Than those I called a jewel or a star, 
In the old days gone by ! 



Light threads of gray amid that hair's rich brown, 
And shoulders bent, but not with age bowed down ; 
Coarse dress, and worn, where once was silken sheen, 
And velvet robe and jewels might have been. 
Since the old days gone by ! 



For me those toiling hands have wrought all day ; 
For me those eyes have charmed dark thoughts away ; 
For me that golden glory streaked with gray. 
That form bent down, that was so light and gay, 
In the old days gone by ! 



Wife ! mother ! friend ! all these to home and me, 
Three holy names, all sanctified by thee ! 
A sadder name ere long shall be thine own. 
With which to walk down life's dark vale alone, 
All thy glad days gone by ! 



THE COUNT OF PARIS. 



The promises are thine, and thou shalt lean 
Upon a stronger ai'm than mine has been, 
Till past the weary road, the cross laid down, 
In that new home thou shalt take up thy crown. 
All thy sad days gone by ! 



THE COUN'T OF PARIS, 

[The folloAving beautiful reply was made during the debates con- 
cerning the Eegency of France.] 

"T17ITHIN the palace walls they wept— 
T T The mother and her son. 
She, the young widow of a prince 

And he, her fii'st-born son. 
The stamp of royalty was set 

Upon his broad fair brow ; 
He was the kingdom's pride aud boast 

Heir of its glory now ! 

Woe for the doom of Orleans' line, 

Woe for the loved one dead, 
Woe for the King whose hope lies low. 

The land whose peace has fled ! 
Already are dark threats breathed forth 

Aud others claim the j)lace 
That should be his, that princely boy's, 

The noblest of his race I 



THE CGUj\''T of PARIS. 



They come to ask his mother's right, 

His mother's and his own ; 
The widow and the fatherless, 

They stand in grief alone. 
It was with honey'd tones they spoke. 

Yet 't was a bitter word, 
" The Regent of our France must know 

To wear and wield a sword !" 



The spirit of a line of Kings, 

The Bourbon race of pride, 
Flashed from the boy's bright eye, and thus 

His fearless voice replied : 
" I have a sword, my mother's hand 

Can wave a banner bright. 
And France will fight for both of us 

And for our holy right !" 

God save thee in thy doubtful path 

Heir of a fickle throne ! 
A bloody race, an early doom 

Its noblest ones have known. 
The hand that should have shielded thee 

Hath mouldered to decay ; 
God save thee in thy peril's hour. 

And guide thy onward way ! 



80 THE POETS WIFE. 



THE POErS WTFE. 

GLAD the liour wlien first we met, 
Lovely, laughing Margaret, 
Music floated on the air. 

Sunny smiles, bright eyes were there ; 
None could match thine eye of jet, 
Fair and gentle Margaret ! 

Sad the hour which tore apart. 
Loving glance and loving heart ; 

When I parted o'er the sea. 
Leaving all my soul with thee. 

And thine eyes with tears were wet, 
Blessed tears, my Margaret ! 

Home returned, how glad the' hour. 
When I sought thy woodland bower ; 

And with me at altar-side 

You vowed to be the Poet's bride, 

And pledged the love, unaltered yet, 
My wife-like, gentle Margaret I 

Yet another claimeth part 

Of my happy, quiet heart. 
Like her mother, gay and free. 

Like her mother, loving me ; 
Which most dear I know not yet, 

Thee, or baby, Margaret 1 



THE BANNER OF THE FREE, 31 



TEE BANNER OF THE FREE. 

THE bright flag of America 
How gallantly it waves — 
Above the freeman's dwelling-place — • 

Above tlie foemen's graves ; 
By stately stream and forest deep, 

And on tlie bounding sea, 
A thousand hearts are welcoming 
The banner of the free ; 

Where'er a i>eaceful hamlet lies, 

Its shelt'ring hills between, 
The staiTy beacon floats above 

As guardian of the scene ; 
Where the North pine forests bend, to 

The tempest's sweeping blast, 
And every stone a record keeps 

Of struggles of the past. 

Where the prairie's plain is spreading, 

And wild war-whoops ring by. 
Or by the distant water-course 

Beneath a Southern sky : 
The Stars and Stripes wave proudly out, 

And from far-wood to sea — 
From heart and voice bursts forth the shout, 

The banner of the ii'ee. 



32 IS ADOBE. 

ISADOHE. 

THOU art not fair to other eyes, 
My Isadore ! 
Thou art not gay in others' smiles, 

My Isadore I 
Well, keep thy beauty all for me, 
And all for me, thy gaiety. 
What care I if none else can see 
My Isadore ! 

They see a being sad and pale, 

Their Isadore ! 
They gain but words of courtesy 

From Isadore, 
But ah ! that cheek is flushed for me, 
That voice is tuned to notes of glee. 
When none are near but me and thee, 

My Isadore I 

I live but in thy trusting heart 

My Isadore I 
Give to none else the lightest part, 

My Isadore ! 
I know thee fond, and kind, and true, 
But oh ! if others knew it too. 
Then I should say a long adieu 

To Isadore 1 



JANUARY Ut, 1861. 33 



JANUARY 1st, 1861. 

THE king is dead ! Long live the Ksng I 
And in tlie eager courtiers press ; 
Wlio knowetli what his hands may bring, 

Or who his humor may caress ? 
"What magic in that word, " the new !" 

Hope round it spreads her rosiest ray ; 
Why should the storm of yesternight 
Becloud the promise of to-day ? 

The king is dead ! and, Egypt-like, 

We sit in judgment at his bier ; 
He gave and took ; brought joy and woe, 

And now at last he lieth here. 
To us his face of peace was turned. 

For us his harvest board was spread ; 
And sacred are the memories 

That cluster round his hallowed dead. 

His hallowed dead ! the Church has mourned, 

And hung her head in silence down ; 
But shall she grudge her toil-worn saints 

The blood-bought robe, the palm, the crown ? 
We laid them to their honored rest. 

Their work and God's is ours again ; 
Shoulder to shoulder fill the breach. 

And they shall not have died in vain. 



34 JANUARY Ut, 1861. 



Across the waves the clang of arms, 

The tumult swells to mortal strife, 
Old nations tott'ring to their fall, 

New kingdoms springing into life ; 
Rome, shivering, sits aghast and pale, 

The victor at her gates to see. 
While a new Cincinnatus' voice 

Proclaims a free fair Italy I 

But Syrian vales are deserts drear. 

And Syrian wives are asking bread, 
For vine-clad homes the smoking pile, 

For harvest fields the unburied dead ; 
Earth trembles to her final doom, 

The reapers thrust the sickle in, 
But faith can hear the promise yet. 

The still small voice amid the din. 

And what of home ? Woe worth the day, 

When brothers rend the kindred band. 
Nursed at one bosom, round one hearth. 

And tended by one mother's hand ; 
O watching mother ! pleading still 

With wayward children, weep and pray. 
That God, thy God, would be their guide. 

And turn them from their strifes away ! 

One were they in the hour of need. 
One when the common foe was met. 



JANUARY Ut, 1861. 35 



And Yorktown Heights and Bunker Hill, 

Are they not one in glory yet ? 
Thy foot upon the Atlantic shore, 

Thy garments sweep the Western wave, 
And where thy starry banner di'oops, 

The world's best hopes shall find a grave 1 

Clouds come and go ; but round some homes, 
The cloud is resting every day, 
" My poor," the blessed Master said, 
" My poor ye have with you alway :" 
In dreary rooms, on beds of pain, 

God's mourning children helpless lie. 
While strugglmg thousands toil to seek 
Scant bread beneath a wintry sky. 

With these last words our greetings close; 

All blessings of the field and store. 
Glad household hearths and children's mirth, 

All that the world can give, and more, 
Be yours to-day ! but ere it close 

Let the recording angel's pen 
Write down one generous gift bestowed, 

One deed of love to fellow-men ; 
And all along the downward year 

These golden words your largesse be, 
' As ye have done it to the least 

Of these, ye did it unto Me !" 



86 ROOM. 



ROOM! 

I) OOM in the middle passage 
t For tlie Slaver's bark again, 
Fling out the Stars and Stripes to guard 

Her way across the main ; 
Wail on, oh, restless ocean, 

No longer rolling free. 
The Satrap's chain is flung again 
Across the sobbing sea ! 

Room on the broad coast riyer 

For the Slaver's barracoon. 
Short-sighted men of other days 

Ye triumphed all too soon ; 
Build up the gloomy wall again 

And call the Spaniards back. 
The bloodhounds of the war ride far 

Upon the victim's track ! 

Room in our own green valleys 

For the coming tramp of men. 
Fresh from their desert fastnesses 

The stream flows in again ; 
They have lived to cross the billow 

Where so many fed the shark. 
They will be strong to labor long 

Where the swamp lies dank and dark. 



THE return: zn 



Room on our widespread borders 

For the oppressed of every land, 
Whate'er their creed or calling 

Here shall they freemen stand ; 
But see that in your brother's veins 

No dusky blood doth play, 
Worse than the stain on the brow of Cain. 

Who meeteth Idin may slay ! 



THE RETURN. 

SHE has gone to her slumber, 
The wanderer from home. 
As a bird seeks its shelter 

Wlien even has come ; 
As a ship tossed by tempest 

Across the wide sea, 
Then gaineth the haven. 
Ah, happy is she ! 

There was dust on the wing 

Of the bird as it flew, 
The ship had half foundered 

When stormy winds blew ; 
There was blight on her name, 

And the proud stood aside ; 
One refuge was left her. 

Ah, happy she died I 

4 



THE RETURN. 



It was long since she left it, 

That liome still so fair ; 
Since the hand of her mother 

Had smoothed down her hair 
It was long since her sisters 

Had spoken her name ; 
What had they, the guiltless, 

To do with her shame ? 

But her shadow still lingered. 

The gloom on the hearth ; 
Her grief still remembered 

'Mid all their light mirth ; 
At the prayer by the fireside, 

For her was no prayer, 
It was breathed in the silence 

Of night and despair. 

Now, now she is coming, 

Once more she has come ; 
Beneath the old elm trees. 

There standeth her home ; 
They tmn from the doorway, 

She asks but a grave. 
Too late was her coming 

To bless or to save. 



MY MOUNTAm HOME. 39 



MY MOUNTAIN HOME, 

MY mountain home ! the shadows lie 
Along thy steeps of green, 
Or fling themselves like islands down 

Thy broad lake's silver sheen. 
All day the sunbeams fall and climb 

Along the mountain screen 
Which guards the spot on earth the best, 
Where all I love together rest, 
When I shall seek my mother's breast 

In God's long-waited time. 

Oh, for one glimpse of sun-set gleam 

Just sinking in the west. 
Leaving the purple and the gold 

Upon the lake's cool breast ! 
With softening blue stretched far away, 

Which northward o'er the mountain's crest 
Grows paly green by light just kissed. 
Where loom up through the rising mist 
The distant hills' pale amethyst, 

Just fading into gray. 

I feel a longing to depart — 

My soul is sick of sight and sound 

Of the dull city's noisy strife — 

Of cares within and crowds around. 



40 LIFE'S SORROWS. 



Oh for a draught of that cool brook 
Wliich leaps the rock with sudden bound I 

Oh for one breath of breezy air 

Which rustles through the pine trees there I 

Better my soul her load could bear, 
For one long farewell look ! 

Yet what if I may never tread 

That mountain land again ? 
A few more days of storm and blast, 
A few more weary sun-sets passed, 
My feet shall tread those lasting hills 

From which my help has come ; 
My lips shall taste those living rills, 

My heart shall be at home. , 

Home ! where the hills shall not be moved — 
Home ! with the loving and beloved — 
Home ! with the God I long have j^rovecl — 

When will the birthday come ? 



LIFE'S SORROWS. 

WHEN" we pass along the crowded city, 
Veiling o'er the secret of our woe ; 
Tread we lightly, as we feel the throbbing 
Of the lava flood which lies below. 

Light the crust which covers o'er the torrent, 
Different ripples under every path ; 



LIFE'S SORROWS. 41 



Where we tread, we feel not other's sorrow, 
Only know oui' mercy and our wrath ! 

All the freshness of the summer morning, 
When the summer of our hearts hath fled ; 

And gay flowers and heavy vines in masses, 
^li-e but fair to us aljove our dead. 

All the longing for dark, stormy weather. 

Lowering clouds, and hurrying drifts of snow, 

And for winds, that shall go ever sighing. 
As if heavy with our human woe. 

All the yearning for the look which lieth 
Pale and still beneath the heavy mould ; 

And the waking, when we miss beside us 
The sweet child-face that rested there of old ; 

And the laughter of the happy children. 
Springing past the waves upon the shore, 

And the dash of oars across the waters, 

Where our barques went down long years before : 

And the start, when but our names are spoken. 

And the words have a familiar ring ; 
And the strangers, who are ever choosing 

The old ballads which they used to sing. 

Down the long street, with its rows of windows, 
Curtains, with bright lamp-light streaming through, 
4* 



42 IRENE. 



And the gathered groups around the fireside, 
All so homelike to our eager view. 

Oh ! the heart which takes in all these pictures, 
Framed for others, while the view for him 

Hath but shadows, after which he graspeth. 
Ever growing distant, still, and dim. 

When we stood beside such waves of sorrow, 

Long before our desolation came, 
Gi\T.ng pity to the weary straggler, 

Little dreamed we e'er to breast the same. 

And how little, even in our pity, 

Feeling half the words of cheer we gave. 

That though here all earthly hope was over. 
Heaven and hope were one beyond the grave ] 

Long the strife, but rest shall be eternal ; 

Wild the storm, the calm shall last alway. 
When the shadows which have faded fi'om us, 

Shall be real in the perfect day ! 



IRENE! 

THE southern breeze is on thy brow, 
Irene ! 
Fanning the dark locks that hang thick and low 
Around thy cheek where summer roses blow, 
Ii'ene ! 



IRENE. 43 



There are some strains that thrill my heart, 

Irene ! 
Some voices that can make it quickly start 
As if they were of thy sweet self a part, 

Irene ! 

I heard a tone like this last night, 

Irene ! 
'T was a sweet air all filled with sad delight, 
Like dying echoes on the quiet night, 

Irene ! 

I felt as if thy gentle tone, 

Irene ! 
Was on my ear as in the days long gone 
When thou wert near, my beautiful, my own 

Irene ! 

Where roams thy fairy foot to-night, 

Irene ? 
Where the broad bay gives back the soft moonlight. 
And the orange-groves beneath look soft and bright, 

Irene ! 

And givest thou not the North one sigh, 

Irene ? 
Where late thy free steps wandered gaily by. 
And friends breathed welcome, hearts for thee beat 
high, 

Irene I 



44 LOST TREASURES. 



LOST TREASURES. 

IET us be patient, God lias taken from us 
J The earthly treasures upon which we leaned, 
That fr'om the fleeting things which lie around us, 
Our clinging hearts should be forever weaned. 

They have passed/rom us — all our broad possessions : 
Ships, whose white sails flung wide past distant 
shores ; 
Lands, whose rich harvests smiled in the glad sun- 
shine ; 
Silver and gold, and all our hoarded stores. 

And, dearer far, the pleasant home where gathered 
Our loved and lo\'ing round the blazing hearth ; 

Where honored age on the soft cushions rested, 
And childhood played about in frolic mirth : 

Where underneath the softened light bent kindly 
The mother's tender glance on daughters fair ; 

And he on whom all leant with fond confiding, 
Rested contented from his daily care. 

All shipwrecked in one common desolation ! 

The garden-walks by other feet are trod ; 
The clinging vines by other fingers tutored 

To fling their shadows o'er the grassy sod. 



LOST TREASURES. 45 



Wliile carking care and deep humiliation, 
In tears are mingled with their daily bread ; 

And the rude blasts we never thought could reach us, 
Have spent their worst on each defenseless head ; 

Let us be cheerful ! The same sky o'er-arches — 
Soft rain falls on the evil and the good ; 

On narrow walls, and through our humbler dwelling, 
God's glorious sunshine pours as rich a flood. 

Faith, hope, and love still in our hearts abiding. 
May bear their i3recions fruits in us the same ; 

And to the couch of suffering we may cany, 
If but the cup of water, in His name. 

Let us be thankful, if in this afiliction 
No grave is opened for the loving heart ; 

And while we bend beneath our Father's chiding, 
"We yet can momii " each family apart." 

Shoulder to shoulder let us breast the torrent, 
With not one cold reproach nor angry look ; 

There are some seasons, when the heart is smitten 
It can no whisper of unkindness brook. 

Our life is not in all these brief possessions ; 

Our home is not in any pleasant s]3ot ; 
Pilgiims and strangers we must journey onward. 

Contented with the portion of our lot. 



46 IN PACE. 



These earthly walls must shortly be dismantled ; 

These earthly tents be struck by angel hands ; 
But to be built up on a sure foimdation, 

There, where our Father's mansion ever stands ! 

There shall we meet, parent and child, and dearer 
That earthly love which makes half heaven of 
home ; 

There shall we find our treasures all awaiting. 

Where change, and death, and parting never come. 



IN PACE! 

SPEAK softly ! after toil and strife 
Yery gently death has come. 
She has gained her welcome home. 
Wearied with the weight of life, 
Under which she could not tread, 
So she bowed her aching head, 
And at that eternal gate 

With her cross has entered, 
Where she was used to "wait. 

Once her life was strewn with flowers, 
She had plucked them all away, 
Only thorns were left to stay ; 

She had no more summer hours. 
And her bare and bleeding feet, 
For such rugged path unmeet, 



IN PACE. 47 



Toiling long their weary way 

Now have gained a sure retreat 
Where there is rest alway. 

Weep above her not one tear. 
The very angels waiting round 
Would wonder at a sobbing sound ; 

See how calm her lips appear, 
Ploughed by grief, and care, and sin, 
Storms without and fires within, 

Were the furrows on her brow ; 
Like the marble white and thin, 

God's hand has smoothed them now. 

Raise no white tomb where she lies, 
Lay her in her mother earth, 
In the country of her birth. 

Where with full and glad surprise, 
When that coming morn shall break, 
Her beloved ones shall awake, 

And with clas23ed hands once more, 
All one household band shall wake, 

Life, Death, and Parting o'er ! 



48 A CO UNTR Y B URIAL FLA CK 



A COUNTRY BURIAL PLACE. 

rj^READ liglit, here lionored heads lie low ! 

1 And who are they ye number so ? 
Is it the warrior in slumber bowed, 
With his nation's flag for his burial shroud ? 
Have ye borne him here from the strife away, 
With his eye still fixed on the stern array, 
With his sword yet clenched in his icy grasp. 
And the victor's shout on his dying gasp ? 

With the warrior dead his grave is made. 

Not here, in the silent greenwood shade. 

Is it he who hath guided the helm of state. 

And hath scattered thrones with his word of fate, 

Whose soaring mind, as on spirit's wing. 

Was ever above earth hovering ? 

Has his plume been torn, ere the aim was won 

And the voice been hushed, is the triumph done — 

Doth he sleep in peace, who hath lived in storm, 

When his soul was i)roud, and his heart was warm ? 

He could not sleep amid lowly dead — 

The marble lies over his honored head. 

I know who sleep eth so far away 
From the city's din and the battle's fray, 
The student, whose spirit hath sought a store 
Of Nature's hidden and mystic lore ; 



3fANASSAS. 49 



His task is done, and he sleeps below, 

Free from the evil of mortal woe ; 
He could not rest where the sunbeams play. 
In the gloomy vault is his moulding clay. 

K.now ye the one to whom was given 
The Holy truth and the hopes of Heaven ? 
When the proud and the noble passeth by, * 
And whose form aiTests not the student's eye ? 
Yet meek and lowly, a loftier aim 
Was his, than the baubles of wealth and fame, 
He battled, and won a far higher prize, 
His rest and reward lie beyond the skies ; 
He is here, but his memory lingers yet. 
And the grave with his mourners' tears are wet. 



MAIiASSAS. 

OH, crushed out hearts ! Oh, hair grown gray 
With the sad news of yesterday ! 
Years lived since, with a loyal sliout, 
We sent our best and bravest out 
To do and die ! 

Oh, mourning city by the sea ! 
Draped with thy flags so royally ! 
Hang out the crape on every fold, 
And let thy funeral bells be tolled ; 
And then— to arms ! 
5 



60 THA T CITY. 

Short time for tears ! ring out the cry 
Till every mountain top reply, 
And wondering nations yet shall tell 
Of how we conquered where they fell, 
And in their name ! 



TEAT I T Y! 

I KNOW her walls are stately 
Her palaces are fair, 
And to the sound of harping, 

The Saints are singing there ; 
I know that living waters, 

Flow under fruitful trees ; 
But oh ! to make my Heaven, 
It needeth more than these ! 



Read on the sacred story 

What more doth it unfold, 
Besides the pearly gateways 

The streets of shining gold ? 
No temple hath that City, 

For none is needed there, 
No sun, nor moon enlight'neth, 

Can darkness then be fair ! 



THAT CITY. 51 



Ah ! now tlie glad revealing, 

The crowning joy of all, 
What need of other sunlight 

Where God is all in all ? 
He fills the bright ethereal 

With glory all His own, 
He, whom my soul adoreth 

The Laml) amidst the throne ! 

Oh, Heaven without my Saviour 

Would be no joy to me. 
Dark were the walls of jasper, 

Rayless the crystal sea ; 
He gilds earth's darkest valley 

With light, and joy, and peace, 
What then must be the radiance 

When night and death shall cease 

Speed on, oh lagging moments ! 

Come, birthday of the soul ! 
How long the night appeareth ! 

The hours, how slow they roll ! 
How sweet the welcome summons 

That greets the willing bride, 
And when my eyes behold him 

I shall be satisfied ! 



62 CAVOUR. 



a A V TIB. 

"ITTE stretch, our hands over the sea, 

T T Italy ! sister to thee ! 
Over the grave of thy statesman and father, 

Where a whole nation stands weeping, but free. 
Ours lieth sleeping amid the loud thunder, 
Booming around him from one to the other ; 

Sharp is the clashing, 

Of bayonets flashing. 
Down with the foeman, what though 'tis a brother, 
Three stripes and thirteen, O how wide they can sever, 
Lover and loving, forever and ever ! 

Italy ! mourning, yet joyful in sorrow, 

Looking along all the i3ath that he trod ; 

Calm in his greatness, yet firm as his mountains, 

Leading his country through fire and through flood ; 

Till the wide flag unfolded. 

Where Alps fill the back-ground. 
Sweeps lovingly down over Naples' fair bay ; 

Where the bright laughing waters. 

That kiss as they greet it, 
Have seen no such vision for many a day ! 

Italy ! sister, for freedom unsheathing. 
The laurel-wreathed sword of thy glorious dead. 
In counting thy triumphs, in lauding thy daring, 
In following thy path where the victory led. 



SEVENTY-FIVE. 53 



"WiLTi the low sob of mothers crushed down by the 

triumph 
That flashed in their eyes as they said, " She is free !" 

So grew we to stature, 

War stature, not slowly, 
But springing full-armed, Pallas-like to the strife. 
Here, too, 'tis for freedom, for country, not glory ; 
Do you think all this glory was worth one young life ? 

No ! little we care what the world says about us, 
Whether this or that battle was won by their rule ; 
They have gone from their workshops, their fields and 

their firesides, 
And some (O my darling !) went straight from their 

school. 
We will wrestle in prayer. 
Whilst they struggle in fight, 
To open a highway for truth and for right, 
Where the nations may walk like the maiden in story, 
With her jewels untouched from the sea to the sea ; 
Free speech is our jewel, our crown and our glory ! 
What om- fathers bequeathed us, our children's shall 

be! 



SEVENTY-FIVE. 

"VTOT on a human bosom 
li Can I recline my head ; 



64 SEVENTY-FIVE. 



Not by a liuman judgment 
Can my poor will be led ; 

All look to me for counsel, 
All come to me for aid ; 

Wliat marvel tliat I tremble, 
And am at times afraid ? 

The sweet name of my girlhood, 

And of my wedded life, 
In the same grave are buried 

That holds the name of wife. 
All reverend names they call me, 

And I bless God alway, 
For many children's children 

Around my board to-day. 

But as I sit here knitting 

Beneath the great elm tree, 
And listening to the water 

That ripples by my knee. 
My thoughts will still go backward 

To those old days of joy. 
When I was young and lightsome 

And he yet half a boy. 

And up in that old doorway 

Again I seem to starid. 
One baby at my bosom. 

Another by the hand ; 



SANTA LAURA. 66 



And he comes up tlie meadow, 
And smiles to see us there. 

While this same wind of autumn 
Blows back his clust'ring hair. 

I think I hear him calling, 

And start and look around, 
'Tis but the leaves that rustle 

The water's singing sound : 
I know that he is sleeping 

In the green forest nigh, 
And he will truly call me 

Ere many days go by. 

My little grandson read me, 

It was but yesterday, 
In the old Book of Promise, 

Now all my hope and stay, 
" Thy Maker is thy husband, 

Thy God will be thy guide !" 
Then wheresoe'er He leadeth 

I shall be satisfied. 



SANTA LAVRA. 

17ATHER, this cup ! and then the pale lips quiver. 
With the deep prayer they cannot frame to speak ; 
And the heart sinks as if beneath the surging 
Of waves that swell, and swell but never break. 



B6 SANTA LAURA. 



My path is over plouglisliares fumace-lieated, 
And the white light bums in upon my brain ; 
And the great beads stand out upon my forehead, 
Wrung from the pressure of my ceaseless pain. 

I see afnr green fields and pastures pleasant, 
And other steps amid those flowery meads ; 
Are they the wanderers from the path of duty ; 
Is it mine only that through deserts leads ? 

I see fair faces leaning looking upward. 
To eyes that turn with tender loving ray ; 
I see young children on their mothers' bosom. 
And fathers resting from the sultry day. 

Praise on their lips, and thankful hearts uplifted. 
And loving Thee the more, for home and love, 
Is mine the only lot where hope comes never, 
Mine the one pathway to the realms above ? 

Rugged and broken, and with hideous faces. 
Out of the dark, mocking my feeble prayer, 
With burning pangs that rend my heart asunder. 
And not one ray across my dark despair. 

If it be possible ! No sign nor token ! 
Then give me grace to say, " Thy will be done !" 
And send swift angels with Thy cup of blessing, 
As in the wilderness they met Thy Son ! 



FIRST BORN. ST 



So strengthened, I will take my cross, and bear it 
Slowly and sadly up my weary way ; 
Till at Thy call, summoned from cross to crowning, 
My darkness yields before Thy perfect day ! 



FIE ST BORF. 

rrHE wild March wind comes sighing up the river, 
1 And all the hills around are white with snow ; 
Dark, save one beacon light that trembleth ever 

On the tossed flood that swells and heaves below. 
Within, one close by the low cradle leaning. 

Sits moaning heavily upon the floor ; 
One bows his head on his strong arms, as caring, 

Never on this changed world to lift it more. 

Rachels, and Ramahs, and a wailing Egypt, 

'Tis the old story of the long ago. 
The little life just trembling in the balance. 

The waiting angel and the mother's woe ; 
Six thousand years that cry has been repeatcl 

And its eternal youth is ever new. 
And shall be, till the heavenly choir completed, 

The last white wing shall sweep the portals through. 

Spared the long journey thro' the desert weary, 
Spared the long anguish of hope's dying day ; 

The fair white brow that never shame o'ershadowed, 
The little feet that never went astray ; 



58 SLEEP AND LEA TH. 

Folded and safe within their Father's dwelling, 
Pleirs to the crowji and palm they never won ; 

O waiting angel, ere our hearts shall falter, 
Take thou the child ! O God, Thy will be done 1 



SLEEP AKD DEATH. 

ONOT twin brethren, sleep and death ! 
Though both in Paradise had birth. 
From that first sleep sprang breathing life 
To people all the moving earth. 

The leaves hung heavy o'er his head. 
The air was filled with odors rare ; 

While yet unseen by mortal eye — 
Earth's first created slumbered there. 

Unconscious that before he woke 

His new-found bride should watch his rest, 
And earth and heaven with glad acclaim. 

Should keep the wondrous marriage feast. 

But all too soon upon that bliss. 

The shades of sin and death were cast ; 

Too soon, before the avenging curse, 
The first-born son fled far and fast. 

So grew from off that fatal tree 
The seeds of wrong, and shame, and crime ; 



/ WISH. 59 



Yet from that death springs life again, 
In God's own full appointed time. 

Again the tree is planted deep, 

Which bears immortal fruit for man 

And buj-ied in that three-day tomb, 
Death died, and endless life began ! 

Sleep on, O ye in Christ who die ! 

Toil on, O ye in Christ who dwell I 
Rejoice that all, both life and death, 

Are His who doeth all things well ! 

He giveth His beloved sleep ! 

All kingly gifts are in His hand, 
And death, the last, but opens up 

The morning of the better land ! 



I 



/ WISE. 

i I was an hei: 
The fairest of them all, 
I'd deck me for the revel, 

I'd grace the crowded hall !" 
She went forth gay and lovely, 
And lovers round her bowed, 
Her wealth, her rank, her beauty, 
The envy of the crowd. 



/ WISH. 



" I'm weai-y of this mock'ry, 

Oil for a quiet home 
With one fond heart to love me, 

Where care should never come ; " 
Fail' were the roses trailing 

Around her cottage door, 
And loving were the voices 

Which bade her roam no more ! 

" I wish that I were going 

Beyond the dark blue sea, 
Old temples and old ruins 

The spoils of art to see ; " 
She slumbered in the shadow 

The pyramids had made. 
And left but graves behind her, 

Beneath the maple's shade ! 

" Oh, for one look in dying 

Of my fair childhood's home ; 
Love, friendship, all have left me, 

And only death to come ! " 
They bore her to the dwelling 

Where life's first hours were past 
And there the lovely weeper 

Was laid to rest at last ! 



THE BURIAL OF B0NCHAMP8. 61 



THE BUllIAL OF BONCTIAMPS. 

A TALE OP THE VENDEE. 

" T) AISE him lightly, bear him gently, for his life 

It blood ebbs away, 

The blood that ever freely flowed in the cause of our 

^ Vendee, 
Three times before we've borne him thus from out 

the stormy fight, 
But a voice is linging in our ears, it will be the last 
to-night. 

Would you know how he, the gallant one, was stricken 

in the fray ? 
The hand that dealt the fatal blow, has turned ere 

this to clay ; 
He lieth there the carrion hound, whose life our hero 

gave, 
But the craven coward tm'ned on him, and no hand 

was near to save. 

Those lips which never breathed an oath, are blue as 
yonder sky, 

And palsied is the arm that waved the lily banner 
high ; 

There is triumph now at Paris in the fierce and mur- 
derous crew, 

But our King will give a tear to him, the loyal and 
the true I " 



62 THE BURIAL OF BON CHAMPS. 



The leaden bullets fell like rain from where against 
the sky 

The banner of the Faubourgs was waving up on 
high ; 

But on they bore their murdered chief along their 
homeward way — 

To die as he had ever lived in the heart of his Yen- 
dee ! 

Five weary leagues, and then beyond springs up that 

blessed spire ; 
" Press on ! press on ! for St. Florent before the day 

expire, 
And if no mortal aid avail, no mortal hand can save, 
That church contains five thousand foes to die upon 

his grave ! 

He shall not perish unavenged, whilst there our 

prisoners wait 
The traitors to their God and King, his death shall 

seal their fate ; 
Their Paris streets are dyed with gore, our St. Florent 

shall show. 
That Vendean justice tarries not — nor is its vengeance 

slo\T ." 

The holy cross yet shone above, the altar stood below, 
Yet knelt no maiden in the aisle, no priests to come 



THE BURIAL OF BONCHAAIPS. 63 



No organ's note swelled loud and Mgh, but in its 

stead was there, 
The muttered oath, the moan of pain, and the fierce 

cry of despair ! 



And louder gi'ew the horrid din as the tramp of 

armed men, 
Came nearer yet upon the ear — and the drum was 

beat again ; 
Loud they heard the Vendean battle shout, and knew 

the doom was near. 
And the mercy they had given, was all the mercy 

they could fear. 



And wildly rose their shriek of woe, as they heard 

the pass-words ring — 
" One volley and the deed is done for the cross and 

for the King ; 
And ye may tell the rebel horde, who chance to pass 

this way, 
Here was the funeral pile we raised to the hero of 

Vendee ! " 



Another shriek of wild despair, and it roused the 

dying man 
Half rising from his leafy bier ere the murderous fire 



64 THE BURIAL OF BONCHAMPS. 



And once again liis voice was heard like a clarion 

trumpet's ring, 
No longer with his battle-cry " For the lilies and the 

King ! " 

" Spare ! mercy for th' unarmed host, if ye have 

thought for me, 
If ye have ever loved your chief now show how deep 

it be ; 
Ye have fought beside me many a day, ye are my 

children dear, 
Why turn ye from my dying couch as if ye will not 

hear ; 

Ye will not listen to my voice, ye will not heed my cry ! 
Ye have never yet refused my prayer ; it is time for 

me to die ! 
Yet I will speak, I will command, I am your leader still, 
My voice is not yet hushed in death, and ye shall 

obey my will ! " 

A rush of blood, a single sigh, and the chieftain's 
task was o'er. 

The leader of a hundred fights would grasp the sword 
no more ; 

Yet strong in death as brave in life, his last com- 
mand obeyed, 

Five thousand grateful foes knelt down where the 
clay cold form was laid. 



LOOKING UPWARD. 65 



DO YOU REMEMBER? 

DO you remember those summer eves 
When the bustling day was over, 
When the evening hours were clark'ning fast 
And the crowd from the busy street had passed- 
All save some lingering lover ? 

By the Ioav window we used to sit, 

While the loving moon was beaming ; 
And you told me tales of the Western woods, 
And the prairie lands, and the rushing floods — 
Wild as some poet's dreaming. 

Your voice is yet on my list'ning ear, 

And your smile on my heart remaining ; 
But I look alone on the busy street. 
And I hear the sound of passing feet, 
When the sunlit day is waning. 

With no glance of thine on my heart to shine, 

And I both sad and lonely. 
And you are afar o'er the billowy sea ; 
Thinking perchance of all but me, 

While I dream about you only ! 



LOOKING UPWARD! 

THE wreaths that deck the banquet-hall are flinging 
Their incense o'er the revellers below ; 



66 LOORFNG UPWARD. 



Alas ! the hours their ceaseless course are winging ; 

And ere the blossoms shall have fallen low, 
The shadowy hand may trace along the wall ; 
Away with feast and wine ! room for the bier and 
pall ! 

Oh ! let me sweep the lieavens with glance up-spring- 
ing, 
Learn each bright radiance, count the gems of 
night, 
And pierce my way up where the stars are singing, 
Past the sweet influence of our worlds of light, 
And only pause where angel-paths begin 
At that wide gulf 'twixt purity and sin ! 

Give air ! I pine here where the roof-tree waveth ; 

Give me the lands beyond the orient seas ; 
My soul the ocean, and the desert braveth ; 

Oh, for a life to spend in toils like these ! 
Yain, vain ! that starry guard no mortal breakcth ; 
The pilgrims' grave the desert pathway maketh. 

Sweet is the blending of two hearts together. 
The mutual trust, the fond and kind caress. 

When each has sworn to part and sunder never, 
But given their lives for blessing and to bless ; 

And when the light of childhood's smile appeareth, 

That Home half heaven within its bosom beareth ! 



LOOKING UPWARD, 67 



Vain ! vain again ! Thy God not here is dwelling, 
Though sweet to live caressing and caressed ; 

And even here the solemn voice is swelling, 
'' Arise ! " depart, for this is not your rest ! 

Immortal spirits ask immortal joy ; 

Earth's purest gold has dark and dim alloy. 

Poor, lonely, fixed upon the l3ed of weeping, 
Daylight no longer greeting sightless eyes, 

Oh, w^hat can give calm days and quiet sleeping ? 
Can even star-light o'er such gloom arise ? 

Yet hear a voice from that poor child of sadness, 

A voice of triumph and a song of gladness : 

" My Saviour ! Thou art near unto the lonely ; 

Thou givest light and glory to the blind : 
The veil of sense once rent from off the spirit. 

The bars once broken which the soul confined. 
What matters it whence comes that ransomed spirit — 
From hut or palace — glory to inherit ? 

" Give me the water from those upper fountains ! 

Give me the fruit of that immortal tree ; 
Take all the worldling's wealth of gain and pleasure, 

And let me find my fulness all in Thee ! 
Tlieir pinions droop where ours^ fir3t upward spring- 
ing, 
Catch gales of Paradise, their courses winging." 



MANY MANSIONS. 



MANY MANSIONS. 

THERE are dwellings in the countiy, 
There are dwellings low and wide 
In the shadow of the mountains, 

By the mill-stream's rapid tide ; 
Where the chestnut boughs o'ershadow, 

The broad and drooping eaves, 
And the western wind comes freshly- 
Through the rustlino; of the leaves. 



I know those pleasant dwellings, 

For I was a country child. 
And I plucked the pui^le berries 

Far up the mountain wild ! 
And I chased the lowing cattle 

Along their homeward way. 
But I never asked if childhood 

And home would last alway. 

There are dwellings in the city. 

There are dwellings fair and tall 
"Where broad the light is dancing 

Along the pictm'ed wall ; 
And out through crimson curtains 

When the passers linger long, 
To hear the children's laughter. 

And the maiden's evenino- song. 



3IANY MANSIONS. 

I know those stately dwellings, 

For one I called my home, 
And I paced my gorgeous chambers 

Where I thought no care could come. 
And I laughed a low, sweet laughter 

To the baby at my breast, 
For I thought my goods were garnered, 

And my soul could take her rest. 

There are dwellings iu the alleys 

Where the poor and wretched meet. 
And the shout and song ring wildly — 

Up from the crowded street. 
Where tlie air is foul with odors. 

And the heart within us dies. 
As we hear the mocking laughter 

And the children's bitter cries. 

I know those wretched dwellings, 

For there I toil and pray, 
For the children's bread I know not, 

Where to seek the coming day ; 
It is hard to dwell with sorrow, 

And harder still with crime — 
But I ask no murm'ring question, 

I have learned to bide my time ! 

There are dwellings fair and stately 
Beyond all mortal sight, 



70 THE BRIGHTNESS m THE WEST. 



"Where tlie walls are built of jasper, 
And the floors as sapphire bright ; 

Where the doors are always open, 
And the angels come and go. 

And we hear amongst them voices 
We are almost sure we know. 

I know those stately mansions — 

For my Father owns them all. 
And I am only waiting 

To hear His welcome call. 
I shall lay down at the threshold 

The burden of my care. 
For I shall go home at evening, 

But shall find it morning there ! 



THE BRIGHTNESS IN THE WEST! 

HARK ! the voices of the children 
Playing in the meadow-grass ; 
See the long reeds bend before them 
Springing backward as they pass ; 
They never see the shadows 

That are thick'ning round their way ; 
To the eyes of happy childhood, 
It is always dawn or day. 



A MO THERS LAST PARTmG. 1 1 



The twilight dew is falling, 

But they never feel it come, 
Till they hear the summons calling 

From many a cottage home : 
" Where is evening — where is twilight ? 

Oh it is not time for rest 1 " 
And their eager lingers pointing 

To the biightnyss in the West 1 

Ah, yes ! ye little children 

There is brightness there, I know, 
Though mine eye too often tumeth 

To the darker things belov7 ; 
And so live, ye little children. 

That when comes God's call to rest, 
Ye may point as glad as ever, 

To the bricrhtness in the West ! 



A 3/0 THEIRS LAST PARTLNO. 

FROM her mother's bosom warm 
Take the child and bear her forth ; 
Down the valley rolls the storm, 

Hurrying from the clouded north : 
When we made the grave to-day, 

Cold and frozen was the ground ; 
Darker seemed it, that there lay 
Snow on all the church-yard round. 



12 A MOTHERS LAST PARTING. 



Take her from her mother's breast ! 

She no more may shimber there, 
By those swollen lips caressed — 

Lips that breathed so vain a prayer: 
"When her father's door she leaves, 

She will heed no rain nor wind, 
Nor that wilder storm that heaves. 

One fond bosom left behind ! 



Eound her pillow in the night. 

How oft that mother's arm v/ill fold 
Dreaming, as she clasps it tight, 

That those anns her baby hold ! 
Oh to sleep tliat sleep whose dreams 

Give us all we loved once more I 
Oh those morning's waking beams, 

Telling us our joys are o'er 1 

Fondly may that mother tend 

Other children just as fau* ; 
Other voices soon may blend 

With that mother's evening prayer : 
Yet from all their careless mirth 

Many a night her heart will Htray, 
Lingering round that spot of earth, 

Li the church-yard far away 1 



FADTXG AXD FLEETING ALL. 



LITTLE GIITLBHEN. 

TT/'JEEP not for tliem ! it is no cause for sorrow, 

T T That theirs was no long pathway to the tomb ; 
They had one l^right to-day — no sad to -morrow 
Rising in hope, and darkening into gloom. 

Weep not for them ! their snowy plumes expanded. 
E'en now are waving through the worlds of light ; 

Perchance on messages of love remanded. 

They sweep across your slumbers in the night. 

Weep not for them ! Give tears unto the living ; 

Oh, waste no vain regret on lot like theirs ! 
But rather make it reason for thanksgiving, 

That ye have nurtured angels unawares ! 



FADING AND FLEETING ALL! 

FADING and fleeting all 
From the tall forest to the fluttering leaf- 
Life unto both is beautiful and brief— 
The leaves with autumn fall. 

Decay is on the earth, 
The stately palace feels her icy hand, 
Where broken columns and dim watch towers stand. 

Once filled with mirth — 

7 



T4 AMY! 

Yet far more sad than all, 
The curse is writ upon man's ruined brow — 
Care ; iron sickness bows his firm strength low 

Beneath the pall — 

Plis spirit feels the weight, 
Ambition fire3 him, high and vague desires 
That light his very soul with inward thes, 

Yet victory comes too late ] 

But through the dark, one ray 
Struggles for room through all the clouds around, 
One holy trust is for his spirit found, 

Night cannot last alway ! 

There is immortal youth, 
Strong in his heart that yet shall be renewed ; 
Earth cruml)le3, but the spirit unsubdued 

Lives in eternal truth ! 



A M Y 



SHE looketh all the day, 
Which slowly wears away, 
For the long evening when she hopes to greet him — 
And as she sits alone. 
Thinks of the days now gone, 
Wlien her yoimg heart grew glad and gay to meet 
him. 



A M Y! -75 



Nightly she braids her hair 

As she was wont to wear 
It in the days when he and hope were true ; 

But evening goeth by, 

And still he comes not nigh, 
As in past days he had been wont to do. 

Slowly she counts the time, 
And every gaining chime, 

Till the last hour goes by with solemn sound ; 
And then the tears will fall, 
Although she strives with all, 

A woman's pride her fond heart to surround. 



Tracing the past again, 

She deems perchance that then — 

Striving to hide the fond hopes she had fear 
Might seem to him too bold — 
She had appeared too cold, 

And chilled his heart while seeking to endear. 



And when sleep seals her eyes. 

And visions o'er them rise. 
His image comes in troul^led dreams forever : 

Sometimes as in the past, 

Then changed as at the last ; 
And thus, in day and night, he haunts her ever. 



16 FOREST TEA CHIKGS. 



FOREST TEA C R I N' G S . 

AFAR away in tlie greenwood shade 
There is pleasant company — 
The bending ehn and the wreathing vine 

Each whisper a word to thee — 
For every flower has its voiceless lore, 

And a lesson it teaches well ; 
And all we need is an earnest heart, 
And to hear and to heed the spell. 



Oh some they love best their mother earth ; 

And they creep along as near. 
As if a voice on the coming blast, 

Had given them cause to fear ; 
And cling to her like a trusting child 

As no ill could reach them there ; 
So the lowliest lot, and the humblest heart 

Feels least of the storm of care. 

And some, oh they leave the earth below. 

And clamber so far on high. 
That they seem to envy the shining stars 

That are nearer to the sky ! 
And long for the breath of autumn's blast 

To carry them far away ; 
So some holy hearts seem drawn to heaven, 

Though fettered by mortal clay. 



THE EA RL Y BE A D. 11 



And some — they on the lowly earth 

But look to the ray on high, 
As thankful they were for home and rest — 

But better they loved the sky ; 
And learn we now in the greenwood shade 

The lesson that these have given, 
Like children to dwell on our mother earth, 

But to keep one eye on Heaven ! 



THE EARLY DEAD. 

THOU hast fallen from among us — there are many 
words of woe. 
As the mourners through the streets wind on devoted- 
ly and slow ; 
The place where once we met thee, is sad and lonely 

now, 
Since the chill of death has fallen upon thy fair young 
brow. 



As we kissed its snowy marble, we had something 

yet of thee ; 
But the lid is closed above it, forever thus to be. 
And a sudden gloom has fallen upon the stately hall. 
Where thou wert once the sunshine and blessing of 

us all. 



78 THE EARLY DEAD. 



Thou liaDt fallen from among us, in the spring-time's 

early hours, 
And one blooming link is wanting in our garland of 

bright flowers ; 
The lily pure and white, was the emblem we had 

given. 
To one who was too fail' for earth, and hast'ning on 

to heaven ! 

The lily's stem is broken, and the flower is all decay 'd. 
But it blossoms now above us, where no blossoms 

ever fade ; 
There is weeping in thy dwelling, but no dew rests 

on the flower, 
No night hangs o'er it heavily in that immortal bower. 

Aye, bear her from among us to the quiet wooded 

shade. 
Where her mother and her kindred in the silent dust 

are laid ; 
Her mother sleeps beside her, who died when she 

was born. 
They shall first behold each other on the resurrection 

morn ! 

It was fitting she should slumber \x\)oii that mother's 

breast, 
Like fi. child with mirth, overwearied, who seeks a 

quiet rest ; 



TWENTY YEARS. 79 

Tlien lay her down beside them, whose heart was all 

their own, 
And let them rest toojether 'neath one memorial stone ! 



TWENTY YEARS. 

IT^OR twenty years we've passed, dear Kate ! 
Down Time's full tide together, 
And proved all changing chance and scene. 

And met all kinds of weather ; 
Since when — 't was on your birthday, Kate — 

We vowed eternal truth ; 
Two laughing girls, with all the mirth 
Of gay and careless youth. 

And we have kept our promise, Kate ! 

In spite of youth's decaying. 
While Time with other's fortunes hath 

All sorts of freaks been playing ; 
Nor has it left ^ls changeless, Kate ! 

Mine eye has lost its brightness, 
And your once graceful form hath not 

Its former fairy lightness. 

For twenty years will make, dear Kate ! 

In maiden beauty, changes ; 
And many a head it layeth low, 

And many a heart estranges : 



80 SEEB TIME AND HARVEST. 



Full forty years are on your brow, 

And some few more on mine, 
Where shining threads of silver ^rey 

Begin vrith brown to twine. 
And we are spinsters both, dear Kate ! 

Yet happy ones, I trow ; 
There's many a wedded wife I know 

Who wears a sadder brow : 
And blessings on your birthday, Kate ! 

And ]jlessings on your lot ; 
You're blest indeed with loving friends, 

For oh ! who loves you not ! 

And far oiF be the day, dear Kate ! 

When one of us lies low ; 
And one is left behind to mourn 

And strive alone with woe. 
We 've lived in love, while twenty years 

Have flown full sy,'iftly past ; 
And when the parting summons comes 

May I not be the last ! 



8EEB TIME AND HARVEST. 

SEED sown on that December mom, 
When down the crowded way. 
With fetters on his aged limbs. 
The old man, stem and gray. 



SEED TIME AND HARVEST. 81 



Passed out to die on Southern soil 
And leave his name to be 

Enrolled amid that martyr host, 
Who died for liberty ! 

It lay beneath the hearts of men, 

A twelve-month and no more, 
And then the ballot-boxes held, 

The ample fruit it bore ; 
Wlien sturdy sons of dauntless sires, 

Banged round, with fearless mein, 
And o'er them like a Heaven above, 

The Stars and Stripes were seen. 



The glorious flag our fathers loved, 

That flag profaned and cursed, 
By those who underneath its folds 

From infoncy were nursed ; 
Dust cannot soil that banner old. 

Nor traitor hands deface, 
We fling it honored to the breeze, 

Leave them the foul disgrace ! 



And all along Virginia's side, 
This sultry summer's day, 

Springs up the fruit of evil deeds 
In strife and deadly fray ; 



82 APRIL. 



In boomina: cannon beaiing death, 
Tlirough all lier fertile shore, 

The stately homes her daughters love 
Resound their songs no more ! 

In vengeance sown, and reaped in ])loocl, 

What shall the liarvest be ? 
The birth-pang of a travail hour, 

YvHiose fruit is liberty ; 
And all tliroughout this wamng land. 

That word new meaning claims. 
The lines our fathers wi'ote with blood 

No longer — em^Dty names ! 

So shall that day when freedom stood 

With folded hands in prayer, 
Be followed by a flood of light 

AVliich took its sunrise there ; 
And as he from the scaffold stooped 

To kiss the child of shame, 
So by his deed a race was raised, 

A new birth-right to claim ! 



APRIL. 

A WARMER breath is on the air, 
The turf looks green below, 
And softly breaks upon the ear 
The sti-eamlet's rippling flow— 



APRIL. 83 



Glad to have burst its icy chain, 
And bounding swiftly by, 

Joining the jubilate song 

Which bursts from earth and sky. 



A warmer tint has yon blue sky — 

The clouds a brighter hue ; 
And gaily break the sunny rays 

Their opening portals through — 
Flinging on vale and hill a light, 

Which heralds future hours 
Of rich and waving loveliness, 

Of gay and gorgeous flowers. 

The pine alone her livery wears 

Of summer's richest green ; 
But, bursting buds the lilac bears 

With shining leaves between ; 
And the young moss half hidden yet 

By autumn's fallen leaves, 
Looks green beside the forest paths, 

And round the time-worn eaves. 



As waketh up a happy child 
From slumbers unto play. 

So rises up this April mom 
As rolls the night away. 



84 HOME VOICES. 



Oh, would tliat we with these bright hours, 

Could wake as free from care, 
And all the ice-chains on our hearts 

Break with the warmer air. 

Could their lost verdure too, return. 

As do the sun and flowers — 
And early hopes come back again 

With summer's fragrant hours. 
How gladly should we wait and watch 

The changes of the year, 
And welcome back the April time 

With even its April tear. 



HOME VOICES. 

I AM so home sick in this summer weather ! 
Where is my home upon this weary earth ? 
The maple trees are bursting into freshness 

Around the pleasant place that gave me birth ! 

But dearer far, a grave for me is waiting, 
Far up among the pine-tree's greener shade ; 

The willow boughs the hand of love has planted 
Wave o'er the hillock where my dead are laid ! 

Why go without me, oh ye loved and loving ? 
What has earth left of hai^i^iness or peace ? 



TIME'S CHANGES. 85 



Let me come to you where the heart grows calmer, 



Earth has no home for hearts so worn and weary, 
Life has no second spring for such a year ! 

Oh, for the day that bids me come to meet you, 
And life in gladness in that summons hear ! 



TIME'S CHANGES. 

TT/E have lain down our youthful visions, 

T T And taken up manhood's years ; 
There were dews upon childhood's garland, 
But the drops upon these are of tears ! 

We walked through the j)aths we had chosen 
With a smile and a thoughtless brow ; 

But a voice in our ears is sounding, 
Too late to be careless now ! 

No more shall we wake with the morning 

To welcome an idling day, 
For care vrill spring up with the dawning, 

And walk at our side all the way. 

There is gray on the locks we remember, 
That hung o'er our childhood's rest ; 

8 



86 HINDER ME NOT! 



And tremors are liearcl in tlie voices 
Whose tones we loyed eyer the best. 

And now, when we number our treasm-es, 
Our hearts must search far and wide, 

For some are over the billow, 
Some sleep at the church's side ! 



HINDER ME NOT! 

HINDER me not ! the path is long and weary, 
I may not pause nor tarry by the way ; 
Night Cometh, when no man may journey onward, 
For we must walk as children of the day ! 

I know the city lieth far behind me, 

The very Ijriglitest gem that studs the plain. 

But thick and fast the lurid clouds are rising, 
Which soon shall scatter into fiery rain. 

I must press on until I reach my Zoar, 

And there find refuge from the fearful blast : 

In Thy cleft side, O smitten Saviour ! hide me, 
Till the calamity be overpast. 

Ye cannot tempt me back with pomp or pleasure. 
All in my eager grasp have turned to dust ; 

The shield of love around my heart is broken. 
How shall I place on man's frail life my trust ? 



HINDER ME NOT! Z*l 

But my heart lingers wlien I pass the dwellings 
Where children play about the open door ; 

And pleasant voices waken up the echoes, 
From silent lips of those I see no more. 

For thro' their chambers sy.^ept the solemn warning, 
Arise ! depart ! for this is not your rest ; 

They folded theii- pale hands and sought the pres- 
ence; 
I only bore the arrow in my breast. 

But there is balm in Gilead, and a Healer 

Whose sovereign power can cure our every ill ; 

And to the soul, more wildly tempest-tossing 
Than ever Galilee, say, " Peace, be still !" 

Who, showing His own name thereon engraven, 
With bleeding hands will draw the dart again. 

And whisper, " Should the true disciple murmur, 
To taste the cup his Master's lip could drain V 

And then lead on, until we reach the river. 

Which all must cross, and some must cross alone ; 

ye who in the land of peace are wearied. 

How shall ye breast the Jordan's swelling moan ? 

1 ivuow not ii the wave shall rage or slumber, 

When I sliall stand upon the nearer shore ; 



88 SURSUM CORD A ! 



But one, whose form tlie Son of God resembleth, 
Will cross with me, and I shall ask no more. 

O weary heads ! rest on your Saviour's bosom : 
O weary feet ! press on the path He trod ; 

O weary souls ! your rest shall be remaining 
When ye have gained the city of your God ! 

O glorious city ! jasper built and shining 
With God's own glory in effulgent light, 

Wlierein no manner of defilement cometh, 
Nor any shadow flung from passing night. 

Then shall ye pluck li'uits from that tree immortal, 
And be like gods, but find no curse therein ; 

There shall ye slake your thirst in that full fountain, 
Whose distant streams sufiiced to cleanse your sin. 

There shall ye find your dead in Christ arisen, 
And learn from them to sing the angels' song ; 

Well may ye echo from earth's waiting prison, 

Tlie martj^r's cry, " Hov/ long, O Lord ! how long V 



S U R 8 U M G R D A! 
(up with tour hearts.) 

SUR8UM Corda ! morning breaks, 
Lift up to Heaven your grateful voice, 
Tired nature wakes from her repose. 
And all her thousand tongues reioice. 



PROSERPINA. 89 



Oh let it no lip service be, 

No outward show, no hollow prayer ; 
Tip with your hearts, ye worshipers, 

Kemembering that the Lord is there ! 

Sursum Corda ! when ye throng 

Into God's holy house of prayer. 
Shake the world's dust from off your feet, 

And leave behind you every care. 
Where two or three in His name meet, 

Our covenant Lord is pledged to be ; 
Up with your hearts, ye tempted saints, 

Unto the God of Calvary ! 

Sursum Corda ! when ye kneel 

Around the table of the Lord, 
Seeking the blessings promised there, 

In His own never failing word. 
Oh then let not a thought of earth 

Draw off your souls from heavenly love ! 
Come, Holy Spirit, seal our vows 

With light and comfort from above ! 



PROSERPINAl 

OH Proserpina, loved and lost forever ! 
Oh woeful mother ! oh most cruel spring ! 
Flowers blooming by the wayside, full Inids swelling. 
And blossoms dropping from the ripening ! 



90 PROSERPINA / 

Birds singing where tlie meadow grass is springing, 
Building their homes on every leafy tree ; 

Bees humming by with luscious stores o'erladen, 
All, all come back, but not my love to me ! 

Back to thy fountains, hill-streams flowing ever, 
Mould in thy cerements, flov/er and fruit, and gr: in. 

Let earth be desolate as is my bosom, 
Till my lost child return to me again. 

The scarlet poppies flaunting in the mecidows. 
They would scorch in upon my burning brain ; 

Tlie songs of reapers in the harvest fulness 
Would ring her laughter in my ear again. 

Oh blinding hail ! pour down thy fiercest fury, 
Only give place to droughts that curse and blight. 

Till crushed out every hope of summer verdure, 
The fields lie blasted to my aching sight ! 

Oh earth ! which had not even a grave to give her. 
Oh mountains, mocking back my eager cry ! 

Let no sweet dews from Heaven descend upon you, 
No cooling wind sweep your parched fissures by ! 

Then, when earth languishes, and Heaven is brazen. 
Will mortal lips send forth so wild a prayer. 

That the rent earth w'ill open to her caverns 
At the fierce cry of their, and my despair ! 



I)E TROFUXDIS. 91 



And from lier prison fair, and young, and lovely, 
Bearing all blessings in her open hand. 

With joy to me, and to the earth rejoicing. 
At the wide portal ynW my daughter stand. 

At every step, earth l^lushing into beauty ; 

At every smile, flowers springing into birth ; 
At every word, fields yielding their full treasure ; 

And harvest, 'oy, encircling all the earth I 

Such welcome as was never given to beauty. 
Such cries of joy as never rent the sky ; 

When my clasped arms enfold my child returning, 
And all my sorrows pass forgotten by. 



DE PROFUNDIS. 

THE night is chill, my hands are very weary. 
Yet tlirough the darkness to Thy cross I cling ; 

Thou who suffered there, Redeemer, Saviour ! 
Cast me not ofi", a weak and guilty thing ! 

1 see Thy ransomed ones still upward treading 

The slender bridge, which spans the gulf we dread ; 
I see the golden gates, yet backward swinging, 
The fiery sword is passing o'er my head ! 



92 LOG UST BRA NCHES. 



Once, I believed my garment washed and whitened, 
When first I knelt before Thy cross and Thee : 

Now, torn and soiled, my nakedness revealing. 
There is no semblance left of purity ! 

Heal me, and take me I Thou hast purchased dearly 
Thy ransomed ones from out the tempter's hand ; 

One drop of blood, that falls from oflf Thy forehead 
Shall buy my freedom, and I rescued stand I 

Though clouded oft, Thy sun shines on forever ; 

I know Thy grace and glory are divine ; 
I need divinity to give me succor. 

There is no arm to save, but only Thine ! 

Bare then that arm, O Helper and Restorer ! 

Satan is clutching me from off my hold ! 
Snatch me, a smoking flax, from out the burning ; 

Thine be the glory, as in days of old ! 



LOCUST BHAKGHE8. 

DO you know the locust branches 
"Where they bend above the stream 
Do you know the shallow water 
Where it ripples in the beam ? 



LOCUST BRANCHES. 93 



Do you know tlie bridge that spans it 
Whose planks sound to the tread, 

And the posts that seem to totter 
As the west wind rocks their bed ? 



Do you know the place of meeting ? 

'T is no place of meeting now ; 
And other steps are treading 

Beneath the locust bough ! 
There are barks upon the water. 

And footsteps on the shore ; 
But a lonely, lonely feeling, 

I have there evermore ! 



I close mine eyes, and listen 

For the beating of an oar. 
And I think a shadowy boatman. 

Goes rowing past the shore ; 
And I hear such mocking voices 

Around and in my ear. 
That the years and days roll backward 

Till those parting hours appear. 

Oh sad the locust seemeth. 
And the ripple on the wave ! 

Dost thou sleep by rushing waters ? 
Is the locust o'er thy grave ? 



84 ARIADNE. 



Take, take their blossoms from me, 
For my spring of life is gone, 

And the only flower I cherished, 
The cruel grave hath won ! 



A E I A D N E! 

ARIADNE ! Ariadne ! 
Weeping by the salt sea-shore ; 
Other shadows come, and vanish, 

Thine remains for evermore ! 
"With thy dark eye dimmed with weeping, 

And thy sad heart rent with pain. 
Ariadne ! type of woman. 
Thou shalt never rest again ! 

All thy trials nought remembered, 

All thy love, thus thrown aside. 
Ariadne ! thou hast trodden 

The same path with many a bride ; 
Many a spirit, love forsaken, 

Many a soul like thine o'ertasked ; 
Many a sun withdrawn unheeding, 

From the worm that in it basked. 

Ariadne ! thou wert weeping 

By the salt sea's sandy shore ; 
Ariadne ! we are keeping 

Watch like thine for evermore ! 



COMING. 95 



Many a traitor soon forsaking 
Swell the sails on Life's false sea, 

Leaving with no sigh or sorrow 

One who loved too mnchj like thee ! 

Ariadne ! crowned of Bacchus ! 

Not for us the vine leaves wait ; 
Where doth linger yet the future, 

Wliere, oh where, the coming fate ! 
Many an eye yet looks in sorrow 

O'er the sad and sounding main. 
Ariadne ! Queen of Bacchus ! 

Shall our loves return again ? 

Now we hear the Faun's soft playing, 

Now we hear the tiger's roar ; 
Comes the Ood of Love and Pleasure, 

Comes he as in times of yore ? 
Ariadne ! lo he cometh I 

Now our hearts like tliine grow free, 
Pleasure yet awaits the mourner 

Weeping by the sounding sea ! 



C M I N G . 

rrilE spring returns with all her summer promise, 
1 Flower, and bird, and blossoms on the trees ; 
When the boughs with autumn's wealtli are laden 
She will come back to me 1 



^6 COMING 



Day and night go by with ceaseless motion, 

But she Cometh nevermore ! 
Month and year go round with sad returning, 

And the winter o'er and o'er ! 

When the last long waiting day is over, 
And the heart that loved is tried too long, 

Like a bow long drawn and sudden bending, 
The more sudden that it was so strong ! 

She will come, all light, and love, and gladness. 

And will find a vacant place ; 
Eyelids closed above the eyes which darkened, 

Looking for the sunshine of her face. 

And the heart which counted out its beatings 
In vain longing for that hour of bliss. 

Will lie cold and still, where her late coming 
Will not waken even by her kiss ! 

Oh, the sorrow that is wasted on her. 
It has weighed a soul into the grave ! 

While she heard and would not heed the wailings. 
Neither come, nor send, nor stoop to save. 

Light some other home, oh love and beauty ! 

Fill some other heart v.ith joy and j)eace ; 
But one vain regret amid thy glory, 

Beating with thy pulse shall never cease I 



TIME AND TIDE. 97 



TIME AND TIDE. 

THE ebb and flow of the tide below 
Is like to our hopes and fears : 
Now calm and bright, in its silvery light, 

The broad blue bay appears ; 
And its mirrored plain gives back again 

The sun with a ruddier glow. 
As if no shade o'er its breast e'er played, 
And no shadows e'er lurked below. 



But changing soon, like the fickle moon, 

The waters speed fast away. 
Like hopes we nursed ere the bubble burst, 

And we mourned their quick decay. 
Then the green bed whence the waters sped, 

Looks reedy, and dark, and low ; 
The sun in vain seeks his rays again 

On the pebbly bank below ! 

Alternate so is the e])b and flow 

Of our pleasure and our care ; 
But while one speeds on, now here, now gone. 

The other is ever there ; 
Though hid awhile by the water's smile, 

'T is ever the same below ; 
And though joy be ours in some happy hours, 

There is care ever there we know ! 
9 



98 THE EASTEBX HILLS. 



But wliy complain, wliile some joys remain. 

That son'ow must linger still ? 
Never a cup has been mingled up 

For man that had nought of ill ; 
Then be we gay while the waters stay, 

And welcome the sunbeam's prime, 
And be patient still in the coming ill, 

Till we bide our allotted time. 



THE EASTERN HILLS. 

AWAY across the mountain land, 
My heart returns to thee ! 
In dreams I ti-ead the verdant turf 

Beneath the maple tree ; 
I see the meadows broad below. 

The river sweeping by ; 
And far beyond those dark blue hills. 
Against the eastern sky \ 

Those eastern hills, those eastern hills ! 

How oft at mom's first glow, 
I 've watched the coming glory cast 

A crown upon their brow ; 
And when the western sky was flecked 

With gold and puri3le sheen. 
The latest sunbeam lingered there, 

While twilight lay between. 



THE EASTERN HILLS. 99 



And they who loved so well to watch 

That sunshine and that shade, 
Who took sweet counsel as they walked, 

And round one altar prayed ; 
Wide billowy seas may foam between, 

But one in ami and heart ; 
Earth's different paths one end shall reach. 

Divide, but never part I 

And thus those far-off eastern hills 

They are a type to me 
Of those from which our help has come 

Which stand eternally ! 
The same dark shadows round their base, 

Between the swelling flood ; 
And the same glory on their brow, 

The sunshine of our God ! 



And we shall cross that rolling stream, 

And gain the hills we seek ; 
Though some may climb the steepest paths 

With weaiy steps, and weak. 
And when we turn again to mark 

The wonders of the way, 
Each cloud will show its silver side. 

Each night its dawning day I 



100 FAR A WA Y. 



F 



FARAWAY! 

j.AR away ! oli words that have such meanhig ' 
Far away, and I aloue ! 
All the sunshine, and the summer weather, 
And the singing birds haye gone I 

While I sit and listen for the tailing 

Of your step across the floor, 
Or think I see a golden ringlet shining 

Where the light comes through the door. 

Half the night I listen to the plashing 

Of the waves along the shore ; 
Half the night we wander on together. 

As we shall do never more ! 

Oh the waking, when upon the threshold 

Between sleep and morn we part ; 
When the desolate gray morning breaketh 

Overhead, and o'er my heart I 

When the wind comes sweeping like a sea-bird 

That goes forth and finds no rest, 
And my heart folds her cold wings together 

Around an empty nest I 



THE STUDEXrS LIFE. 101 



THE STUDENT' S LIFE. 

A LONELY life and a weary oft 
Is the Student's dreary lot ; 
The merry laugh and the song of joy 

For his silent lip are not ; 
His YQVj life is one ceaseless dream, 

As he bends o'er the time-worn page, 

Till his silent form is bent as if age 
Had quenched his young life's beam. 
He studies until his cell is filled 

With the forms once passed away. 
And his very breath is hushed and stilled 

With awe, as the ghastly company 

Around his senses play ; 
Till some noise of the street or the city's din, 
Or the shout of childhood comes breaking in ; 
And he rises up from his oaken chair, 

And gazes out on the open day. 
And bares his brow to the cooling air. 

And looks below on the busy way 
Where thousands are passing — the old and gray ; 

And the young and fair with their laughing eyes, 

While a happy smile on each bright lip lies, 
And their ringing voices are loud and gay — 

While hands are clasping and hearts beat high, 

The Student gazes with moistened eye. 
To all the joys of that busy mart 
There i^ no link from his lonely heart ; 
9* 



102 THE STUDENTS LIFE. 



His cell is his world, and his books are his friends, 
As day by day his brow he bends 
O'er the ancient tomes, while the busy and gay 
Are laughing the lightsome hours away ! 
But see below in the crowded street, 
How beggar and prince in the jostle meet, 
And the tattered robe and pale form are seen 
To mingle full oft in the gaudy scene. 
And care under costly robes is worn. 
And misery shrinks from the glance of scorn ; 
The hungry are weeping, and they who spend 
Their lives 'mid the heated factories' din. 
Where the cool, fresh air scarce pierces in, 

With their pallid brows to the smooth stones bend 
And pluck the grass from the pavements end, 
(Which minds them perchance of their early days, 
And the happy child at the cottage door, 
Who has left long since his boyhood's plays, 
To return to his father's home no more.) 
And then creep back to the crowded room. 
Where the iron clangs out their knell of doom ! 
The Student turns to his cell again, 
And closes the blind on the scene of pain ; 
And blesses his stars as he opes the books, 
And again on the long-loved pages looks. 
That though lonely his lot, the world's care and din. 
While it rages around may not enter in ; 
At his door all its tumult and toils must cease. 
And his lot at least is a life of peace ! 



JUDEA CAPTA. 103 



JUDEA CAPTA, 

OH tliou afflicted, tempest tost ! 
Whose walls are fallen, wliose glory lost ; 
Forsaken for a little while, 
On thee again thy King shall smile ; 
Thy Temple's golden roof shall blaze 
Again beneath the noon-tide rays : 
The sapphire's light shall mock the Heaven 

Around the court by thousands trod ; 
Where all their guilt and sins forgiven, 

Thy sons again shall worship God ! 

Look upon Zion from afar, 

Her gates have fallen in fearful war ; 

The Holy City lieth waste, 

The hateful banner o'er it placed ; 

Yet strong her deep foundations stand, 

Laid by our God's own mighty hand ! 

And there, unseen by mortal eyes, 

The angel guard encampeth still ; 
Even when the unhallowed courts arise, 

Defiling all Moriah's hill ! 

Still heavy on the children fall 
The curses braved in Pilate's hall ; 
Driven toward the northern snows, 
Oft have they fled from deadly foes ; 



104 FAINT, BUT PURSUING. 



And still by many a southern wave 
They bow, the outcast and the slave I 
Oppressed by man, and cursed by God, 

They take through earth their weary way ; 
Till He shall spare th' avenging rod, 

And hear His people when they pray. 

Oh Thou, who led'st thine exiles back 
Across the desert's weary track ! 
And sent Thine angel on their path, 
To foes a messenger of wrath ! 
And Thou who by Tiberias trod 
The veiled in man, the present God ! 
Hasten the time when once again 

Thy Temple's walls shall builded be. 
And at a new Shekinah's fane 

Thy scattered remnant worship Thee ! 



FAINT, YET PURSUING. 

I AM too weak to struggle any longer, 
Christ must do all and undertake for me ; 
Here blessed Lord, I make myself Thy bondman. 
And know that Thou will give me fullest liberty. 

Long have I fought, till I am faint and weary. 
In mine own strength I felt the tempter's power ; 

And found his yoke a heavy one and galling, 
Bowing my spirit lower every hour. 



WAITING. 106 



Deatli and the power of Hell's tremendous reign ! 
I do not say that I shall yet be faithful, 
I do not say I shall not fall again ! 

But Thou hast turned and looked, and I, heart stricken, 
Have gone away in bitterness to weep. 

Grant Lord, that I ere long may be forgiven. 
And be commanded here to feed Thy sheep ! 

Faint, yet pursuing, may my perfect weakness 
Be perfect strength in Thee, my God and Guide ! 

Not looking back, but up, and on forever, 
Let me by grace be armed and sanctified ! 

I ask no earthly gift nor earthly comfort. 
If Thou but give one gift of all the best — 

Peace, passing understanding, this I covet ; 
Oh God of mercy, give the weary rest ! 



W A I T I N G . 

THOU art a covenant-keeping God ! 
Thy people still are led 
In safety through the wilderness. 

With manna still are fed. 
Though shadows round their pathway lie, 

Yet in the darkest night. 
At Thy command the cloud shall turn 
To be a beacon light ! 



106 SANTA CRUZ. 



Ko prayer of faith shall fall to earth, 

No seed shall e'er decay ; 
Both to God's glory fruit shall bear 

la His own chosen day ! 
Long time the Heavens like brass may seem, 

But yield not to desj)air ; 
The long-exiDected shower shall fall, 

The bow shall still be there ! 

Oh ye of little faith ! no word 

Shall fail that He has said ; 
Work on, ye laborers of the Lord, 

Trust Him for daily bread ; 
And when the harvest time shall come. 

Ye may not live to share ; 
Our God shall send His reapers forth, 

And all your sheaves be there 







SANTA CRUZ. 

NLY to come to thy feet and die ! 

Like a wounded fawn that has wandered wide, 



And the hunter's arrow has pierced his side. 
As he bounded heedless by. 

"Why did I leave thy sheltering arms ? 
The waters are wide, and they have no ark ; 
The sunshine is bright, Init the nights are dark. 

And I tremble at fierce alarms ! 



SAKTA CRUZ. lOt 



Over tlie waters away to thee ! 
But wide are the billows that roll between ; 
And " Homeward bound " are words that I ween 

Will never be spoken of me ! 

I hear no voices of fond recall ; 
Had'st thou but whispered it faint and low, 
My heart would have answered it long ago, 

And leaped to the welcome call ! 

Not here where the orange-groves abound. 
And the odors hang heavy on sense and brain ; 
Oh, for the breath of the pines again, 

And the scent of flowers on the mossy ground ! 

To die in my youtli when all is l:)right, 
And the dance and song are ceaseless mirth ; 
And never a hand on this weary earth. 

To wipe the dew from my brow to-night ! 

Only to come to thy feet and die ! 
But my heart returneth both night and day. 
And when the hour cometh to pass away, 

You will know that a parting soul is nigh ! 

You will know by the kiss on your cheek impressed, 
And the sudden toss of your wavy hair. 
By a ripple that runs through the cool night aii' ; 

But I shall be at rest ! 



108 HYMN. 



E Y M N . 

IN tlie hours of pain and sorrow, 
When the world brings no relief; 
When the eye is dim and heavy, 
And the heart oppressed with grief, 
While blessings flee. 
Saviour, Lord, we trust in Thee ! 

When the snares of earth surround us — 

Pride, ambition, love of ease ; 
Mammon with her false allurements. 

Words that flatter, smiles that please ; 
Then ere we yield. 
Saviour, Lord, be Thou our shield ! 

When forsaken, in distress, 

Poor, despised, and tempest tost, 

With no anchor here to stay us ; 
Drifting sail, and rudder lost ; 
Then save us Thou, 

Who trod this earth with weary brow ! 

Thou, the hated and forsaken ! 

Thou, the bearer of the cross ! 
Crowned of thorns, and mocked, and smitten, 

Counting earthly gain but loss ; 
When scorned are we, 
We joy to be the more like Thee ! 



HERE AND THERE. 109 



Thon, the Father's best beloved ! 

Thou, the throned and scej^tred King ! 
Wlio but Thee should we, adoring, 

All our prayers and praises bring. 
Thrice bless'd are we. 
Saviour, Lord, in loving Thee ! 



HERE AN'D THERE! 

FOR us the conflict and the toil, 
The sickness, and the pain ; 
For them, the wii3ing of the tears, 

Which shall not flow again. 
For us, the j)ath o'ergrown with thorns, 

And darkness round our way ; 
For them, the golden street of Heaven, 
And God's eternal day ! 



How long, O Lord of love ! how long 

Shall we go mourning here ? 
How long till in Thy courts above 

With singing we appear ? 
We see Thy saints to glory go, 

And trim our lamps anew ; 
When shall we hear the bridegroom's voice, 

And we be summoned too ? 
10 



110 THE SECRET OF THE SEA. 



O longing heart ! O aching head 1 

Our times are in His hand ; 
And not a drop is in the cup 

Unmeasured by His hand 1 
And though the bitterness be great, 

Yet deeper was the draught, 
Which in His hour of agony 

Our great Redeemer quaffed I 

Though long delayed our time of rest, 

And o'er the waters wild 
Like Noah's dove we have been sent, 

Our rest below defiled ; 
Yet soon our exile shall be o'er. 

His time of love shall come ; 
When He shall open wide the door, 

And take the wanderer home ! 



TEE SECRET OF THE SEA 

TAKE away the propping pillows, 
I will lay me down again ; 
Ye may bathe my fevered temples. 

But ye cannot soothe the pain. 
I have watched the soft wind playing 

Through the prairie grass and flowers, 
And the hot sun idly sinking 
All these livelong summer hours. 

Draw the curtain yet more closely, 
I shall never see it more , 



THE SECRET OF THE SEA. Ill 

Let me shut my eyes and listen 

For the murmur of the shore. 
All night I lie here longing 

For the fresh wind of the sea, 
And the barren sands beside it, 

That was all of home to me. 

I know here all is lovely, 

While the quiet stream winds by. 
Between the tall rank grasses, 

And the herds go feeding by ; 
Where the purple lilies flaunt them 

And the wild swamp flowers are gay, 
And the bees make quiet murmur 

Through the sultry summer's day. 

Still I pine ; forever longing 

For the bleak New England shore ; 
And my ear is ever haunted, 

By the breakers' sullen roar. 
The fair green open meadows 

Can bring no joy to me, 
For the field I long to gaze on. 

Is the broad breast of the sea ! 

But ye cannot quite detain me 

When the fever racks my brain, 
And my day has almost ended 

Shall my soul go forth again. 
There may be paths from here to Heaven, 

But there is none for me ; 



112 THE SECRET OF THE SEA. 



I cannot rest till I have listened 
To tlie moaning of tlie sea. 

When ye are watching sadly 

For the last departing breath, 
And the hush is on your spirits 

Which precedes the hour of death, 
Mv soul will take her pathway 

To the wild New England shore, 
And on my way to Heaven 

I shall see my home once more ! 

I shall see the low-walled dwelling, 

Beneath the old pine tree, 
They will hear no branches rustling, 

Who are thinking there of me, 
I shall sea the white sand gleaming. 

At the falling of the tide. 
And the gray rocks, whence the sea birds 

Go wheeling far and wide. 

I shall linger in the starlight 

By the window to the sea. 
And shall hear our father's blessing 

Go up for thee and me ; 
And with its latest whisper, 

I will go with it on high ; 
So shall home voices bear me 

To my home beyond the sky 1 




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